


Near Death, Near Life

by michaeljagger



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Is Alive, Alternate Universe - Family, Flashbacks, Gen, Multi, Rating Might Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-06-24 22:45:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaeljagger/pseuds/michaeljagger
Summary: Alison Fawcett-Button has just celebrated her eighteenth birthday. Before and after that, a number of things happen.





	1. Coke and...

**Author's Note:**

> “What if everyone was one big family” is the funnest concept to me, and is also the actual premise of the show now I think about it. Subsequent chapters will switch between flashbacks and present-day; I’ve not done as much planning as I normally would for a multi-chapter fic so I’m nervous. But please do enjoy.

“Oh, Alison! Isn’t it exciting? I can’t wait to be eighteen. And I can’t wait to be sixteen and have my deb party. And-“

Alison let Kitty twitter on. Her cousin was overexcitable at the best of times, but with Alison’s eighteenth birthday nigh, she had been bubbling over. Now the day had come, she was positively feral. She was dressed in a maroon monstrosity that was almost as bad as what Alison had been forced to wear, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Alison!” came a voice from downstairs.

Alison groaned. “Coming, Mum!”

“- we’ll have to invite  _ all _ the eligible men,” Kitty went on, “because I’m  _ not _ turning sixteen without a boyfriend -“

“ALISON!”

“I said I’m coming! Sorry, Kitty.” Alison lifted the hem of her skirt, hurrying down the stairs.

“Ah. There you are,” her mother said.

Mary, busy directing the hired caterers, nodded over her shoulder. “Miss Alison. Lady Button,” she said disapprovingly, “I do believes they’ve forgotten the pheasant canapés.”

“Oh, typical,” Fanny tutted. “Is the turtle soup at least there?”

“Yes, Lady Button.”

“Turtle  _ what _ ?”

“Don’t be squeamish, Alison,” Fanny said. “It’s what our guests will expect.”

“Oh, right, our huge guest list. Dad, Julian and Robin.”

“Alison!” Fanny snapped.

Alison rolled her eyes, which she was really too old to be doing now, but her mother sometimes made it impossible. “What did you call me down for, anyway?”

“I wanted to check,” Fanny said, tugging up Alison’s dress to cover a bra strap, “that you’ve told Michael to wear something smart. Have you?”

“ _ Yes _ , Mum.”

“Well, I mean… he does have the same idea of smart as we do, doesn’t he? I mean, does he own a decent suit?”

“Yes. He still fits into the one from Year Eleven prom.”

“Smashing,” Fanny said doubtfully.

“What time’s Dad getting here? And is he bringing Frankie?”

“Ten hundred hours is what he said. And no. This is to be a family affair.”

“But I’ve invited Mike.”

“That’s different. We’re rather obliged to meet Mike.”

“But we’re not obliged to meet Frankie.”

“We’ve already met,” Fanny said coldly. “Now, where’s Kitty?”

“Putting on more eyeshadow, I think.”

“Ah, good girl.”

She shrieked at the sound of a ‘La Cucharacha’ car horn outside.

“Uncle Julian’s here!” Alison said, rushing out to meet him.

“Don’t let your dress touch the gravel!”

Alison stuck her tongue out. Julian could be a bit much, but she needed to be around someone so starkly unlike her mother.

He was leaning on the bonnet of his BMW when she came out, and scooped her into a hug.

“How’s it going, birthday girl?”

“Rubbish. Mum’s being a total control freak.”

“That’s par for the course. Your dad’ll be here soon to out-freak her, don’t worry.”

Alison looked in the back of the car, but there was no one else. “Fenella and Tarquin couldn’t come?”

“No. Fenny’s in Ibiza with her housemates and Tarquin’s got some rugby match. Dreadfully boring. Much rather be here.”

“You are such a bad dad, Julian.” Though she wouldn’t miss her cousins. Fenella, a law student, was all right, but had all her father’s personality and hedonism in a body that was thirty years younger with twice as much energy. She also did copious amounts of cocaine and could snort Julian under the table. Tarquin was a year younger than Alison but deeply patronised her, and always bored on about his rugby achievements.

“But a pretty smashing uncle, no?” He took from the back seat a gold sparkly gift bag. “I’ve bought something boring I can give you in front of the ‘rents, but this here is Uncle Julian’s Special Eighteenth Birthday Present.”

“Oh yeah?” Alison said warily.

“Just take a look.”

She reached into the bag. Condoms. A double pack, extra-large.

“Your dad told me you’ve got a fella, so I did the only responsible thing.”

“Right, Julian. Thanks,” she said, suppressing a grin. “And what’s - oh my God.”

It was a small, clear plastic bag of white powder.

“Don’t snort it all at once. Share it with your mates.”

“Um, Julian, I -“

“Hand it over, please, Alison,” came a cold voice.

“Dad! How’s it going?”

“Jesus, you snuck up. Where did you park?” Julian said.

“On the road,” the Captain said. “I saw you turn down the drive before me, and I didn’t like the idea of you pulling out anywhere near my car. Now, what on earth were you thinking?”

“It’s the traditional eighteenth birthday present! Coke ‘n’ condoms.”

“Coke and -“ The Captain spotted what was in Alison’s other hand. “Well. I suppose you’d better hang on to those. But don’t let your mother see them.”

“No fear,” Alison said.

The Captain tossed the bag into Julian’s car with one last dirty look. “Time to inspect the proceedings. Is your mother being sensible, Alison?”

“You know she isn’t.”

“Right. Come along now, Julian.”

“You’re such a bore, you know,” Julian said as they walked into the house together. “You never let me have  _ any _ fun.”

In the time it took Alison to walk back into the house, Julian had already got his hands on a gin. He watched Fanny and the Captain attempt to organise things together with a detached interest.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t line the plates up like that,” Fanny said. “It’s lunch, not an army drill.”

“Nothing wrong a bit of organisation.”

Mary intervened, tugging the Captain’s sleeve. “Captain Fawcett, let me shows you where we’re putting the buntings.”

“Neither of those are plural, but very well.”

Kitty hurried down the stairs, tripping on the last step and nearly crashing into Julian.

“Watch it,” he said, protecting his glass.

“Sorry, Julian. Aunt Fanny? Who else is coming?”

“What, dear? Oh.” Fanny set down the napkin she was folding into a swan, having deemed the head caterer incapable of doing it properly. “Just Robin. And Michael.”

“And, Kitty, Mike is  _ not _ eligible,” Alison warned.

“Oh, that’s fine,” Kitty said, looking disappointed. “Do you think I’m wearing too much eyeshadow?”

“No,” Alison lied.

“Alison,” Julian said. He was arranging an impromptu bar on the Welsh dresser. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I wouldn’t mind a coffee.”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re eighteen. What can I get you to  _ drink _ ?”

“Alison won’t be having an alcoholic drink until at least four fifteen p.m.,” Fanny said primly. “That’s when she was born.”

“Your brain doesn’t stop developing until about twenty-five,” said the Captain, reaching for more bunting with a startling creak of his knees. “So perhaps she shouldn’t have a drink at all.”

“Oh, you two are the worst parents ever. And I’ve left Fenella in pubs on three separate occasions. Right. Coffee, then?” He winked.

At eleven o’clock, Alison heard another car pull up on the gravel.

“That had better be Robin,” the Captain said. “He’s late enough as it is.”

Alison looked out of the window. It was a Ford Focus, but was in considerably better nick than Robin’s, which Alison called the ‘Flintstone Car’ owing to the hole by the pedals.

“No, it’s Mike!” she said. She downed the last of the whiskey in her teacup (it tasted rank, but she didn’t want to disappoint Julian) and hurried out again.

“Skirt!” shouted Fanny.

Mike was standing beside his car, fiddling with his shirt cuffs. He looked up to see Alison and started laughing.

“What are you dressed as, Aly?”

“Oh, don’t. My mum made me wear it.”

“With the pearls and everything?”

“I know. Stop giggling, will you?”

“Sorry. But I’m scared. I mean, look at this place. I know you said it was big, but…”

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s really grotty inside.”

“It does, actually.”

Alison slipped her hand into his. The wind had blown the front door shut behind her; opening it again was a two-man job. When they managed it, the Captain was in the hallway, not quite standing at attention but clearly wanting to be.

“Ah, Alison. Who’s this?”

“Dad. Obviously this is Mike.”

“I’m sorry, Alison, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Alison sighed, straightening up. “Dad, this is Mike Cooper, my boyfriend. Mike, my dad, Captain Fawcett. Don’t bother asking for a first name, you won’t get one.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Michael,” the Captain said, gripping Mike’s hand.

“Well, I normally go by Mike-“

Alison caught Mike’s eye, and shook her head.

“-ael. Michael. That is my name.” Mike withdrew from the handshake, rubbing his arm. “Nice to meet you too. Captain.”

“Alison, bring Michael through and introduce him to everyone, please,” the Captain said, already turning on his heel and marching back into the dining room.

“He’s taking the bunting very seriously,” Alison said.

“Yeah.” Mike flexed his fingers, checking they still worked. “He’s a bit scary, your dad.”

Alison grinned and took Mike’s other hand. “Wait till you meet my mum.”

She took him through, and realised she was holding his hand rather hard. He wouldn’t be able to use either by the end of the day at this rate.

Loosening her grip, she peeked around the door. Her idea had been to introduce him to all of them at once and as quickly as possible, minimising the chance for any of them to be too weird (her father had just proved this point beautifully). Minimising the chance for  _ Mike _ to do anything weird, as well. If he was worried (and he was, judging by how sweaty his palm felt) his brain and mouth stopped talking to each other. When they in Year Seven, he’d told Mr Prendergast he’d put a pussy willow in Daniel Bellingham’s ear ‘because fuck the police’.

“Right. Everyone,” she announced, tugging Mike through the door after her. “This is Mike, my boyfriend. Mike, you’ve met my cousin Kitty, that’s my uncle Julian, our housekeeper Mary and this is my-“

“I’m Alison’s mother,” Fanny said, striding forward and taking Mike’s hand, again very firmly. “How do you do.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Mike stammered. “Lady Button.”

Alison let go of the breath she’d been holding. Mike calling her mum ‘Mrs’ hadn’t been her biggest fear about today, but it had been up there.

(The Captain had once pointed out that Fanny hadn’t been a Lady in years and if she wanted to be strictly correct, she ought to go by  _ Dowager _ Button. Alison had then said, if they were being strictly correct, he should pop a ‘Retired’ in front of the ‘Captain’, and strangely the matter hadn’t come up again since.)

“Yes,” Fanny said, releasing Mike’s hand. “Do excuse me.” She bustled off, presumably to shout at someone.

“Drink?” Julian said, a bit too loudly.

“Well, if you’re-“

Fanny rematerialised in the doorway before Mike could answer.

“Are you eighteen?” she demanded.

“Um, no. Lady Button. Not until January.”

“Then you won’t be having a drink. Will he, Julian?” she said, with a sharp look in Julian’s direction.

“I’ll get him a sodding water, then,” Julian said sourly.

“I’m sorry,” Alison muttered, as Fanny left again. “It’s always like this when my lot get together. They can’t agree on anything.”  _ Except the best ways to make my life a misery _ , she thought, though it was a bit too dramatic to say.

“It’s all right,” Mike said. Alison knew it wasn’t, but he was being ever so nice about it.

“We’re just waiting on my other uncle, Robin,” Alison said, guiding him to a sofa. He looked like he needed a sit down. “He’s okay. He’s - well, he’s not normal, but he’s not as over-the-top as the others. But he doesn’t really have a concept of time, so I don’t know when he’ll get here.”

Mike perked up at this. “Is he the one with the Flintstone car?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, hell yeah.”

Kitty had been on the other side of the room laying the table, but very obviously staring at Mike. Now she came running over.

“Alison, I’m sorry, I was trying my best not to crowd him but I’m just so excited! Are you Mike? I’m Kitty!”

“Well, Kitty, I’m proud of you for holding back for two whole minutes,” Alison said.

“We’ve met, actually, haven’t we?” Mike said. “At school.”

“Oh, yes,” Kitty said. “But I need to introduce myself again, because school Kitty and real Kitty are two very different people. They are both called Kitty, though.”

When Robin arrived, it was almost lunchtime. The Captain was furious.

“What I always do,” Julian said, following him to the front door, “is tell him to show up three hours earlier than you actually want him. So for ten, I’d say seven, and-“

“I will not enable his habits! He has to learn!” The Captain marched up to Robin, who was taking a scruffily-wrapped present from his car. “What sort of time do you call - oh, good  _ God _ , you smell pungent.”

“Sorry.” Robin shrugged. “Fell asleep in field last night.”

“You  _ what _ ?”

“I was in field,” Robin said patiently, as if explaining to someone very slow. “I was sleepy. Night time. I sleep in field.”

“I see. Robin, it’s Alison’s birthday. Could you try to include articles in your sentences for once?”

“Why use many word, when few word do trick?” Robin grinned. He had never seen  _ The Office _ , or indeed any non-chess programme, but he’d learned the line from Alison and delighted in using it.

“Just come in and have some lunch, Robin.”

“Any chips?”

“As if Fanny would ever allow it.”

After lunch was something Alison had both dreaded and looked forward to: presents. It started well. Julian’s ‘boring’ present turned out to be a rather nice laptop.

“Wow. Thank you, Julian,” she said, handing it to Mike so he could look.

“Oh, think nothing of it.”

“Quite. How much exactly did this cost the taxpayer?” asked the Captain. Both Julian and Alison ignored him.

Her father’s present was a hundred pounds. Well, fifty from him and fifty from Frankie. This had been their arrangement for several years, and it worked for both of them. It saved her father the stress of trying to work out what a teenage girl might enjoy, and Alison could spend it on whatever she liked. This was in stark contrast to Fanny’s presents, which were normally instructive, and normally clothes.

This time was no exception. Alison felt a surge of dread as she opened the soft parcel, anticipating something like her current dress, but to her surprise the silky blouse and long skirt weren’t too bad. Sneaking a peek at the label, she saw they were a brand Fanny frankly couldn’t afford to still be buying, but today wasn’t the day to worry about that.

“I thought you could wear them for your university interviews,” Fanny said stiffly. That meant a lot from Fanny, who still professed not to understand why a woman would  _ want _ a degree.

Mike gave her a pretty necklace with a coral-coloured pendant. He kept shooting terrified looks at Fanny while Alison unwrapped it, but Fanny pronounced it ‘very nice, for costume jewellery’.

Kitty gave her some very brightly-coloured butterfly hair clips that Alison knew she would never choose to wear. However, she let Kitty put them in while she opened the rest of her presents. Mary’s gifts were always homemade, with varying results, though this year’s macramé bag turned out quite well. Robin gave her a boxset of  _ The Office _ DVDs. Alison decided not to mention that the whole thing was already on Prime Video, or that the DVDs were for the inferior British version.

Lastly were presents from the absentee relatives. There was Starbucks gift card from Alison’s half-sister, Heather, and a card from her ‘auntie’ Margot. Alison knew Margot harboured no real affection for her and only continued to call herself that because it irritated Julian, but she wasn’t about to say no to the twenty quid inside.

So, actually, the gift-giving had started  _ and _ ended well. Of course, the best gift of all would have been for her family to behave in a normal and well-adjusted manner so Mike would think that Alison, too, was normal and well-adjusted, but she’d had no real hope that this might happen. She resigned herself completely when, after the presents, the Captain asked Mike if he’d ever shot anything.

“What - d’you mean with a gun?”

“What else could I possibly mean?” the Captain said. “So you haven’t?”

“No. Except Nerf guns. And once we did air rifles at Scouts, but I think they’ve banned it now, ‘cause of health and safety.”

“Ridiculous.” The Captain hated health and safety, almost as much as Julian hated political correctness. “Never mind. We’ll rectify that. Come along.”

“Dad!” Alison protested. “I don’t think Mike wants to go out and kill an innocent creature.”

“You’ve got a killed innocent creature in your hand, Alison. It’s no different.”

“It  _ is _ ,” Alison said defensively, popping the mini Scotch egg into her mouth.

“I suppose,” the Captain said disdainfully, “we could take some tin cans from the recycling and use those instead.”

“No, no, I - I’m up for it,” Mike said, nodding emphatically. “I can handle it. No sweat,” he added, sweating.

“Can I come?” asked Julian. He swayed a bit as he was getting up. The Captain looked him over.

“You can watch. Anybody else? Robin? Alison?”

They all avoided eye contact.

“Oh, fine,” the Captain said, leading Mike and Julian out. “You’re all such terrible bores.”

“Yeah!” Julian said. “And that’s coming from  _ him _ .” He swiped a bottle of vodka from the dresser on the way out.

When they returned, the Captain was grinning, something that was rare enough to startle Alison even after eighteen years of knowing him.

“Alison,” he announced, “you’ve got a fine shot on your hands. Absolutely gleaming. He shot a pheasant!”

“I shot a pheasant,” Mike said faintly.

“Shooty shooty,” Julian agreed. He landed on the sofa beside Alison. Mike took her other side.

“Are you all right?” Alison whispered, squeezing his hand sympathetically.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It just smelled really, like... gamey.”

“Alison!” the Captain said. He had been fiddling with the gramophone, but Fanny had swatted him away. Alison was privately thankful. She didn’t rate her father’s taste in music. “Can I borrow you?”

“Um.” Alison raised an eyebrow, wary. She dearly hoped she wouldn’t be asked to persuade Mike into joining the army. “Okay.”

She followed him into the hallway. As they left, she heard Julian demanding that Robin play chess with him.

“Right,” the Captain said, once they were far enough away that she could only faintly hear the others. “There’s something I ought to tell you.”

(“Julian, I always beat you, even when you’re sober.”

“Don’t be stupid! I taught you to play!”)

“Oh? Yeah?” Alison said.

“Yes. Now, what it is…” The Captain’s expression had changed, his brief cheerfulness fading. “Myself and Francis, we’re… well, we’re…”

“Oh my God!” Alison cried. “You’re not splitting up, are you?”

“What -  _ no _ , Alison, nothing of the sort, we’re…” He took a breath, rocking on his heels. It was comforting to Alison, but also deeply weird when his composure wobbled like this. “Engaged. That’s what we are. To be married.”

“Eng - oh, my  _ God _ ! Oh my  _ God _ !” Alison realised she was actually squealing, and cleared her throat, self-conscious. “Dad! Oh my God!”

She was aware she was repeating herself, but didn’t care.

“Yes, I… well.” He was nearly smiling. “I thought after eight years, it was poor manners not to at least ask.”

(It had been at least  _ nine  _ years, though they didn’t talk about that. Alison certainly wasn’t about to spoil things, anyway.)

“Bloody hell. Sorry. Language.” Alison ran a hand through her hair, feeling she might burst if she smiled any more. “Why’d you look so worried to tell me?”

“I wasn’t worried. Just concerned -“

“‘Concerned’ means the same thing as ‘worried’.”

“ - concerned that you’d be unhappy about it. That’s all. But I see you’re not.”

“Of  _ course _ not. Dad, you’re so daft sometimes.”

He really had to be in a good mood, because Alison didn’t get rebuked for that.

“Ah, good. I wasn’t sure about this business of telling people. Obviously I thought I’d tell you first, and then I was going to tell Julian and Robin later today, but I doubt Julian will remember it by morning. And as for your mother -“

“Yeah. I’m not gonna tell her, don’t worry.”

“Good girl. She will have to know eventually, of course, but… well, it needs thinking about first. And don’t tell Catherine either. I know she doesn’t mean any harm, but she can’t keep her mouth shut.”

“Way ahead of you. I won’t tell anyone until you say I can. Yes, not even Mike,” Alison said, answering his next question before he could ask it. “It’s a shame about Mum, though. I know it’s hard for her -“

“Yes, very hard indeed.”

“I  _ know _ , but don’t you think she needs to… needs to get over it a bit? She can be really nasty to Frankie. And to you, to be honest. I mean, it’s been eight years.”

“You’re very young, Alison,” the Captain said. “Eight years is very recent to her. And to myself. Not to mention the circumstances, that was rather… and of course it reminds her of George.”

“What? Why would it remind her of him?”

The Captain pressed his lips together. “Fairly obvious, isn’t it?”

“No, not especially.”

“Ah.” He rocked on his heels again. “Goodness. I would have thought she’d have told you about George by now.”

“She has! He was Mum’s first husband, they had Heather, then he fell out of a window and died. Sad, but I don’t see what any of that has to do with you. Unless there’s something I don’t know?”

“I rather think there is.”

“Well? D’you want to tell me?”

“Ah. Well, I think that is… you know, I think that would be your mother’s prerogative.” He turned back to the living room.

“Oh, for - Dad!” She caught up with him, which was easier than it used to be. “If she hasn’t told me yet, I don’t think she ever will.”

“Alison.” The Captain drew himself up. “I can’t. It wouldn’t do.”

“Wouldn’t do  _ what _ ?”

“Keep your voice down. She will, I’m sure, once she’s ready.”

“But why shouldn’t I know what happened?”

“Alison! Do keep your voice down!” The Captain said, failing to do the same. “And stop arguing, because I  _ won’t _ tell you. I don’t want to cause your mother any more upset that I already have. Ask her, if you really must know.”

“I can’t ask her! Because then she’ll know that I know that there’s something I don’t know.”

The Captain took a moment to parse this. Alison waited, biting her lip in agitation, knowing she must look stupid and flushed and childish.

“I see. I’m sorry, but I really can’t tell you. It isn’t my place.”

“But -”

“I am not going to put her through any more distress than is strictly necessary. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”

_ Ready? _ George had died over twenty years ago. If she wasn’t ready yet, when would she be? But Alison was starting to feel bad for blowing up, when it had started as such a nice conversation. Those were hard to come by where her family was concerned.

“I… fine. I’ll find out for myself.”

The Captain nodded tightly. “Very good.” They hung onto each other’s gaze for a second; the Captain ducked away first, rubbing his neck.

“I ought never to have put your mother through all that.”

His voice was very low, almost as if he wasn’t speaking to Alison. She shrugged.

“If you hadn’t put her through it, you wouldn’t have me.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose that is something.”

“You  _ suppose _ ?” Alison said, managing a smile. “Dad of the Year right here, folks.”

“Yes, all right. We ought to get back, they’ll be wondering where you’ve got to. And I must make sure Julian doesn’t flip over the chess table.”

“Might be too late for that.”

It was getting dark by the time people started leaving (except Julian, who’d had his car keys confiscated by the Captain).

“You sure you don’t want to stay, Dad?”

They were saying goodbye outside. A breeze had picked up and Alison wished she’d brought a jacket.

“I’m afraid not. Piles of marking to do. Francis and I usually set aside Sunday to get it done.”

“Alright.” Alison knew he’d say that. Maybe it was a tad unreasonable to ever hope he’d stay at Button House again, but she couldn’t help wanting. “I’ll see you… I’ll see you when I see you, then.”

“Shan’t be too long, I’m sure.”

They didn’t hug. Not that Alison minded, she wasn’t all that touchy, but they really  _ never _ hugged. Neither of her parents did; she supposed they must have held her when she was very little, but the only times she remembered getting a hug from her father were when he was either about to be deployed or about to move out. And it would have just been too weird if her mum decided to hug her. It would be like seeing the Queen hugging Prince Charles.

Instead, the Captain handed her Julian’s car keys. “Hide these from him, will you?”

Mike left about fifteen minutes later. He appeared at the bathroom door while Alison was putting Julian’s keys in a box of Tampax.

“Well. I’d better head.”

“Okay.” She would have liked to ask him to stay as well, but there was absolutely no question of it with her mother around. “Um. Thanks for coming. It really means a lot.” She got up to show him out, linking their hands together again. Mike squeezed back.

“Hope my family weren’t too weird for you,” she said quietly, as they approached Mike’s car.

“They’re definitely interesting.” Mike removed his hand to get his keys, and then paused, looking at Alison. “Listen, Aly…”

Mike calling her mother ‘Mrs’ had not been Alison’s biggest fear about today. No, her biggest fear had been that he’d meet her family and they’d be too weird, too difficult, too  _ much _ in general for him or anyone to put up with, so bad that he’d have to break up with her immediately because she had to be nuts to have come from all  _ that _ . And, judging by the nervous expression on his face, the way he was biting his lip as if thinking exactly how to phrase things without hurting her feelings too much, this was exactly what was about to happen.

“Mike, listen,” Alison burst out, before he could say anything. “I’m really sorry, I know my family are all weird and posh, I know that Julian is a complete lush and he’s kind of creepy, I know Robin smells a bit funny and Kitty’s way too friendly and Mary talks funny, and I know my parents are - I know they’re  _ like that _ , I swear they’re not always this bad -” That was a lie. They’d actually done better than usual today, probably for her sake. “ - but it’s been all awkward and difficult with them ever since Dad left Mum for Frankie and now Julian and Margot have split up so  _ he’s _ always here, and I know we live in this massive great draughty house and it’s just really grim but I  _ swear _ I’m not a nutter!”

She stopped, her chest heaving, looking at Mike. He had a kind but confused look on his face.

“Alison, it’s… don’t worry, it’s okay.” He squeezed her hand, starting to smile. “I don’t mind your family. They  _ are _ weird, but not really in a bad way. And I guess there’s a lot going on with them?”

“There is. There really is.”

“Well, like… We can always talk about it. If you want to. Except maybe not right now, because I told Mum I’d be back by nine. But.” His smile always made Alison feel warm. It had been the first thing that made her realise she liked him.  _ Liked _ him, liked him. “What I was  _ going _ to say was, I know you have that coursework due next Monday, but is there any chance you could come to Scouts on Friday?”

“Oh, God,” Alison said. “I look like even more of a nutter now, don’t I?”

“Yeah. But you’re my nutter.”

She tried not to make an embarrassing squeaky noise, which was tricky given her heart was currently melting into a puddle.

“Yeah. I can come. Does Pat need extra help?”

“Yeah. Well, we’re doing archery.”

“Blimey. Is he sure that’s sensible? After what happened last time?”

“I know. But he seems to think it’ll be okay, but all the same, maybe we should both be there. Y’know, just to keep an eye on things.”

“Intercept any wayward arrows.”

“Exactly.”

He gave her a quick kiss before unlocking the car. She watched him fondly as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Sorry about the, erm…” She waved her hand vaguely. “Sorry for freaking out. And for anything else that might have happened today. Sorry my dad made you kill a bird.”

“‘S alright,” Mike said. “You never know when you might need to do that.”

“True. See you Monday, then.”

“See you Monday.”

“I, um…” She tugged on a strand of her hair distractedly. “I love you.”

Mike grinned. “Love you too.”

They’d only recently started saying it. As he drove off, she waved him off, feeling warm and pleased. Things really weren’t so bad.

(Though, reflecting on what she’d said, she realised that Frankie was a gender-neutral name. Maybe she had more to explain to Mike yet.)

She stifled a yawn coming back inside.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.”

Fanny looked up from helping Mary stack the dishwasher. She was the only person in the world who wore gloves to do so.

“Really, dear? It’s not even nine o’clock.”

She didn’t often call Alison ‘dear’. Kitty was often ‘dear’ed, by virtue of being younger and girlier and having dead parents, but Alison was pleasantly surprised whenever it happened.

“I know. But it’s been a busy day.”

She glanced at Julian, passed out on the sofa and looking quite tranquil with it. Mary nodded in agreement, suppressing a yawn.

“Oh! Can we have a sleepover?” Kitty said, clapping her hands.

“Kitty, we live in the same house,” Alison said. “Every night’s a sleepover.”

“It’s not,” Kitty said, pouting. “Not now we don’t share a room any more. And it  _ is  _ your birthday.”

Yes, it was  _ Alison’s  _ birthday, and she would have liked a peaceful night’s sleep, but it was difficult to say no to Kitty. Anyway, sometimes it was all right, when they’d make fun of Fanny together.

“Okay, but you’ll have to sleep on the floor. You’re too big to top and tail now.”

“It’s fine!” Kitty trilled. She skipped up the stairs after Alison, chattering on, and for once Alison didn’t mind. She needed to hear about something inane; dresses and boys and hairstyles.

She would have to find out about George in the morning.


	2. Windows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commence flashbacks!

Julian set his niece down on the windowsill. She gurgled.  
“Do you know, Alison, you’re the only person in this family who knows how to listen.”  
Alison blinked at him curiously. She didn’t say a lot, considering she was two now, but she probably wasn’t able to get a word in edgeways. Not that Julian minded. It was good to have somebody to practice his maiden speech on without interruption (Margot would insist on offering suggestions).  
Alison’s placid manner made Julian feel rather uncharitable towards his own children, who were working off their restless energy in the garden below. Fenella, normally a delight, had gone into a meltdown over the presence of peas on her plate, and Tarquin was still in his awfully annoying screaming phase. Of course, if they’d brought the children’s nanny Genevieve it would have been much easier, but Margot felt it better ‘not to rub it in Fanny’s face that she can’t afford help’. Plus, she thought Genevieve showed too much leg. Well, Margot was welcome to look after the kids herself, in that case.  
Julian had escaped some interminable army anecdote on the pretence of putting Alison down for an after-lunch nap, though he’d only gone for an aimless wander around the second floor (he had no idea where her bedroom was in any case). The place was decrepit. That was the problem with these old-money types - too nostalgic by half. It was far easier to persuade fifty thousand constituents to vote him in than it was getting Fanny to even consider re-tiling the upstairs bathroom.  
He crouched to Alison’s level, peering out the open window with her.  
“You’re a very lucky kid. All that garden to run around in. We’ve only sixteen acres at the Ramparts.” He lifted her pudgy hand, making her wave. “Say hello to your cousin Tarquin. Oh, never mind, he’s too busy screaming.”  
He pushed up the sash window. Fanny had appeared below and was having a stern word with Tarquin, to no avail.  
“Oi! Fanny!” Julian waved at her, holding Alison in front of him.  
“Julian! Come down here and parent your children!”  
“Nah, you’re all right,” he said, bouncing Alison up and down. She was enjoying it, giggling loudly. “Me and Alison are bonding up here.”  
“Bondin!” Alison echoed, wriggling about trying to catch sight of her mother.   
That was when it happened. Luckily - for Alison at least - Fenella was directly beneath.  
Alison scrambled to her feet on the grass below, quite unconcerned, but Fenella started to cry. There was an alarming red trail trickling from her mouth.  
“Daddy! My tooth fell out!”  
Julian peered out of the window. “Don’t worry, Fenny, it was wobbly anyway.”  
“JULIAN!” He was grabbed by the collar.  
“Bloody hell, you snuck up,” he choked. The Captain gave him a sharp tap.  
“What the hell have you been playing at, Julian?”  
“He pushed her out of the window!” Fanny cried from below, checking Alison (who was trying to escape her grip) for injuries. Margot was behind, knocking back a gin and tonic.  
“I didn’t push, Fanny, I dropped. It was entirely unintentional.”  
The Captain pulled him back from the window, looking as if he’d like to do some pushing himself.  
“Julian, you are incorrigible. Get downstairs, now.”

They were back in the car not ten minutes later. Fenella was holding a glass of milk, in which her tooth was floating.  
“Really, darling,” Margot said fondly. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

* * *

Luckily for Alison, there were currently two people in the house with no filter whatsoever (three, but Kitty certainly wouldn’t know). She tried Julian first.  
“Ah! Alison.” He sat up with a groan. “Get me a Lambrini, would you?”  
“No, Julian.” She perched on the arm of the sofa, folding her hands in her lap. “I wanted to ask you something, actually.”  
“What? Oh, sodding hell, where’s my belt?” He hoisted his trousers up.  
“Yeah. I just…” She ought to have rehearsed asking. “Look. Julian. What happened to my mum’s first husband?”  
“Oh, God.” He pulled himself up. “I’m far too hungover for this.”  
“No, hold on -“  
He shut the bathroom door in her face. Well, fine. It was still early enough - Fanny would still be getting into her corsets. Alison went into the kitchen and, as expected, found Mary making a pot of tea.  
“Morning.”  
Mary glanced up. “Morning, Miss Alison.”  
“Can I ask you something?” She saw Mary freeze. “It’s not about the fire.”  
“Okay,” Mary said slowly, gingerly touching the scarring on her neck. “What is it?”  
“What happened to Mum’s first husband?”  
Mary turned, aghast. “I… Alison, I don’t think…you already know what happened, don’t you? That’s - that’s all there was to it.”  
Alison would have known Mary was lying even if she wasn’t turning deep red and visibly sweating. She drummed her fingers on the side of the fridge.  
“It’s just, Dad sort of implied -”  
“Don’t worry about nothing your father says,” Mary said, looking even more panicked. “Anyway, I don’t really knows anything about it, I was still working for the Lapidos back then, God rest ‘em…”  
There was another thing. Mary never said ‘God rest him’ the rare times she mentioned George, which she did for literally every other dead person, up to and including Michael Jackson, on one memorable occasion.  
“Mary -”  
“Stop harassing her,” Julian said, swiping a sugar cube from the pot and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll tell you, all right?”  
“Really?” Alison said. Mary’s eyes widened.  
“Lord George Button,” Julian recited, sounding almost bored, “hereditary peer, naturally a Tory, married your mother, eventually threw himself out of the upstairs window. For unrelated reasons, I’m sure.” His lip curled. Alison’s anticipation deflated.  
“But I already knew that,” she said. “I was asking because Dad - well, he sort of gave the impression that there was more to it than that.”  
“What?” Julian shook his head. “No. If there was, he would have told me. We’re very close.”  
Alison raised an sceptical eyebrow. “Well, I’m close to him too, and -”  
She was cut off by a loud thunk. Mary was shaking, clutching the mug she’d just slammed down in front of her. Tea had sloshed over the top and was dripping from the counter, onto the floor.  
“Mary,” Alison said, touching her shoulder, “are you -”  
“It weren’t on purpose,” Mary said quietly, without looking at either of them. “And it certainly weren’t your mother’s fault. It was an accident.”  
Julian grimaced. “Look. Mary. I’m sure Fanny prefers to think of it that way, but realistically -”  
“I know what I’m talking about!” Mary said. It was so rare for her to raise her voice that Alison jumped. She hoped Julian would stop talking.  
“Do you, though?” Julian continued. “You were just saying you weren’t there.”  
“Well, neither were you! Now stop poking where you aren’t wanted!”  
She threw down the dishcloth she’d be using for the spilt tea and stomped out. Julian caught Alison’s eye.  
“Well, that was absolutely biz-”  
Mary returned and picked up the cup of tea she’d forgotten. With one last filthy look at the two of them, she stormed back out.  
Julian tapped the side of his nose. “Leave it to me. I’ll ring your dad. Where are my car keys?”

“Don’t forget about Scouts tomorrow, yeah?” Mike said, as Alison and Kitty got out of his car.  
Alison patted his head. “I won’t.”  
“Thank you for the lift, Mike!” Kitty trilled, hoisting her school bag over her shoulder.  
“No probs. See you tomorrow, yeah?”  
She skipped ahead. Alison, having stopped to give Mike a quick kiss, had to jog to catch up.  
“Hello, Alison.”  
Alison froze in the kitchen doorway. The Captain and Julian were sitting at the table, with a sulky-looking Fanny. Alison’s heart started to thud.  
“Dad? How come you’re here?”  
“I came directly from work. Francis is none too pleased with me, but I do need to talk to your mother,” the Captain said, with a pointed look towards Julian.  
“About - about what?” Her breaths were coming shallow.  
“The conservatory.”  
“Oh.” Money talk. She exhaled. It wasn’t that her mother was useless with money; it certainly wasn’t that she needed a couple of men to tell her what to do. It simply took a combined effort to break through her stubborness; the Captain with sharp words and orders, Julian cajoling and persuading, and sometimes even Robin would be thrown in for a bit of chaos.  
“Well,” she said stiffly. “Have fun.”  
Mary edged past her. “Lady Button - oh, hello, Captain.”  
Julian and Alison were pointedly ignored. It had been like this all week with Mary, something Fanny didn’t appear to have noticed. Alison started towards her room, almost bumping into Kitty.  
“Oh. Sorry, Kitty.”  
“It’s fine,” Kitty said, looking not at all fine. “Alison, what’s going on?”  
“What d’you mean?”  
“Why’s Mary cross with you?”  
“What?” Alison forced a smile. She didn’t know why herself. “No one’s cross with anyone.”  
“Yes, she is!” Kitty said, her voice rising. “I’m not stupid, you know! I’ve been noticing this all week and I don’t like it!”  
“Kitty! Keep your voice down! It’s fine, alright, and anyway it doesn’t concern you.”  
Kitty stuck her bottom lip out. “I rather think it does. I live here too, you know, and I love both of you, okay, so it’s very important to me that I know what’s going on!”  
She was crying now. This was fairly usual for Kitty, but it wasn’t the crying that struck Alison. It was the indignance glinting in her eyes, pushing through her normally placid tones. Although expressed in a very different Kitty-ish way, it reflected the same feeling Alison had experienced during that conversation with the Captain.  
“Kitty. I’m sorry. It… she is cross with me, but I don’t really know why. I genuinely don’t.”  
Kitty nodded, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.  
“It’s something to do with Mum. I was asking Mary about it, and…” She paused, unsure about telling Kitty even the minimal detail that she had. Kitty squeezed her shoulder gently.  
“It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me everything. I just… well, I don’t like it when people lie to me!”  
“No. Of course not. I just didn’t want to upset you.”  
“It’s fiiine!” Kitty sung. “I’m fine now. Could I practise eyeliner on you again?”  
That was a Kitty thing, too - nothing ever stuck to her for too long. Which was a very good trait for her to have, considering.

“Well, I think you’re going to have to let Mary go. Or at the very least, reduce her from a live-in position.”  
Alison paused outside the drawing room, from which she could hear the Captain’s voice voice. She peeked through the gap; he, Fanny and Julian were sitting around the coffee table. On the table was a sheet of paper, dotted with numbers and sums in her father’s sloping handwriting.  
Fanny spluttered indignantly in response. They’d had meetings like this before, usually picking a room in the house as far as possible from where Alison and Kitty were, but she’d occasionally happened across them anyway. Like a car crash, she never really wanted to watch (always through a crack in the door, as they never invited her in), but at the same time felt compelled to do so. At least, until Fanny spotted her and chased her away.  
Now her parents were arguing. Quelle surprise, as Julian would say. When she was ten and they told her they were divorcing, she’d understood from her Jacqueline Wilson books that she was meant to feel sad, but try as she might she could only feel relieved.  
“Alison?”  
Julian opened the door in her face, hitting her nose.  
“Ow!”  
“Sorry, sorry.” He glanced back at Alison’s parents, who had momentarily paused from shouting at each other. “What d’you think, Captain? Can Alison come in?”  
“Absolutely not!” cried her mother.  
“Don’t be shrill, Fanny,” her father said. “She’s an adult now. Perhaps she should.”  
“I’m her mother, and I won’t allow it.”  
“Well, I’m her father and -”  
“Referendum!” Julian said. “Hands up if you think we should let Alison in.”  
He and the Captain raised their hands.  
“Actually, guys, I -” Alison started.  
“And hands up if you think we shouldn’t?”  
Fanny raised her hand defiantly. Julian shook his head.  
“Sorry, Lady Button. Overruled. Come in, scamp.”  
Alison wasn’t sure herself exactly what she wanted to do, but she followed Julian in, sitting on the sofa with a creak of the springs. “Thanks.”  
“No probs.”  
“Back on topic,” the Captain said, with a glare. “Fanny. The conservatory.”  
“I don’t see what the issue is! We never use it anyway.”  
“That’s not the issue, is it? The wood is almost rotted through, it could collapse at any moment. What if Alison or Catherine were to get hurt, hm?”  
Fanny sniffed. “They don’t go in there, do you, Alison? They’re sensible girls.”  
“Alison’s a sensible girl. And it’s not just that. What about the structural damage to the rest of the house? You’re being wilfully ignorant, Fanny. It needs fixing now.”  
“It does, I’m afraid,” Julian said. “Much as I hate to agree with this bore.”  
“So,” the Captain continued, “we must cut costs wherever we can.”  
“Wherever I can, you mean,” Fanny said. “We wouldn’t dream of compromising your lifestyle. Why don’t you move out of London?”  
“Francis has to be near his mother. You know she’s infirm.”  
Fanny’s face screwed up in the way it always did when Frankie was mentioned. Julian interrupted the uncomfortable silence.  
“You could always sell.”  
The Captain held up his hand. “Julian, I wouldn’t.”  
“Well, it’s the most obvious solution, isn’t it? I know at least five hoteliers who’d kill to get their hands on this place, and-“  
“Out of the question!” Fanny shrieked. “The Buttons have owned this house for six hundred years!”  
“Give or take,” Julian said. “And it’s part-owned by the Fawcetts now, isn’t it?” He nudged the Captain. “You really need to get around to taking his name off the deed.”  
“We are not selling!”  
“No, we are not,” the Captain said firmly. Alison breathed a silent sigh of relief. Against all logic, she loved Button House too. Though the second she moved out, it would be to a dry, well-insulated, characterless little new build.  
“But, Fanny,” he went on, “we must either find a way to make money from the house, or cut costs. And if we can’t do the former, then the latter-“  
“Lodgers,” Alison said.  
She expected Fanny to shout this down immediately, but all three of them stopped and stared at her in confusion.  
“Have you - have you really never thought of that?” she said. “I mean - you know - we’ve got plenty of spare rooms.”  
“Actually, we have,” Julian said, “but we’ve never had the balls to suggest it to your mother.”  
“I beg your pardon?” Fanny huffed. “Do you think I’m that unreasonable?”  
Nobody deigned to answer that. Alison cleared her throat.  
“Well… I mean, what do you think, Mum?”  
“Out of the question! As if I’m going to invite…”  
Alison fixed her with a steely look. “What was that about being unreasonable?”  
“Yes, Fanny -” the Captain started, but Alison silenced him with another look. She could do without his backing; the second he tried telling Fanny to do something, she’d make it her business to do the opposite.  
“Well.” Fanny folded her arms, her expression petulant. “If it were someone quiet. And clean. A lady. And they’ll need to sleep in the west wing.” Fanny’s bedroom was in the east wing.  
Julian had been scribbling notes. “I don’t see why not. “You know that back bedroom? Overlooking the lake? Could fetch a pretty penny.”  
“That bedroom has a severe mould problem,” the Captain muttered. “Though sorting it out wouldn’t be more than an afternoon’s work.”  
“Just the one lodger,” Fanny said. “And I’m not saying yes yet.”  
“Oh, we know,” Julian said. “Smart kid you’ve got, though.”  
“I know,” Fanny said, with an almost fond look at Alison. “Don’t start thinking she gets that from you.”


	3. Arrivals Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is all flashback - chapter 4 will be a direct follow-up to 2. I can’t wait to introduce you to The Lodger, but in the meantime here’s some backstory... and a meet non-cute.

Kitty chirped as Mary unclipped the straps of her car seat. She was ever such a good baby. Hardly ever cried; she hadn’t made a sound during the long car journey, and in fact Mary had needed to pull over a few times to check she was still breathing. No, she hadn’t  _ needed _ to, not medically, Kitty hadn’t even inhaled any smoke, but with every second she wasn’t in sight Mary’s insides twisted with fear.

Once Kitty had been transferred to her carrycot, Mary turned round, and saw the house properly for the first time.

“Good grief.”

She really said it out loud. But it  _ was _ good grief. The Lapidos and Boultons had also had very big homes, far bigger than Mary had ever dreamed she’d live in, but the Lapidos had a Kensington townhouse and the Boultons an elegant apartment (never a flat). They were slotted next to others just as palatial. Button Hall, by contrast, sat on its own, down a long forested path, out of sight of any other building except its own (disused) stables. It was as if somebody had carved out this huge swathe of land especially for it. Perhaps they had. Apparently, Lady Button could tell her all about the history of the place.

Before Mary could knock, the door opened.

“Miss Gibson? Do come in.”

Lady Button was a little woman, though her swept-up hair gave her an extra few inches. Nevertheless, she was immediately intimidating, much like the huge lion’s-head door knocker Mary hadn’t attempted to lift.

“Thank you. I’m Mary,” she said, struggling to lift both her luggage and Kitty over the doorstep.

“How lovely to meet you. Please, follow me.”

Lady Button had a sharp tone even when saying things that should have been friendly. Maybe that was the grief. She walked very fast, and Mary hurried to keep up while trying not to jiggle Kitty too much.

They came to the living room; or perhaps it was a parlour, or drawing room; one thing Mary had learned was that posh people had many words for the same thing. There was a toddler sitting on the floor, running grooves in the thick carpet with a wooden train.

The grey-haired man on the sofa behind her stood up immediately.

“Captain Fawcett. Pleased to meet you.”

He shook her hand very hard.

“Hello. I’m Mary.” Then, sensing this was a family who placed a lot of emphasis on surnames, “Mary Gibson.”

Lady Button turned her attention to him. “Get us some drinks, would you?”

The Captain was watching Mary in a studied sort of way. “Very well.”

As he left, Mary cleared her throat. Wasn’t it a bit early for drinks? She hoped Lady Button wasn’t one of those gin-drinking ladies.

“I’m… I’m very terribly sorry, Lady Button. About Elizabeth.”

“Mm.”

Not that it mattered, but nobody had said sorry to Mary about it yet. She was offering condolences to Lady Button, who hadn’t visited since Kitty was born two months ago, but Mary was the one who’d woken up to the smell of smoke, who’d managed to get Kitty out but not her parents, who had the scarring to show that she’d tried.

She chastised herself for the entitlement. Elizabeth was Lady Button’s niece, after all, and Mary was sure their relationship wasn’t a patch on the familial bond, even if Mary had seen Elizabeth nearly every day since she was one.

The Captain returned with a tea tray, the cups arranged at perfect right angles. Mary was relieved.

“Thank you very much.”

“I’ll be mother,” Lady Button announced. “Mary, you can put Kitty on the floor, if you like.”

“Thank you.” She had been hanging onto the carrycot on one aching arm, afraid to let it touch the pristine coral-coloured carpet.

“We’ve submitted the final contents claim on your - on their behalf,” the Captain said. “Had Julian look it over first. He’s got an eye for this sort of thing.”

“Oh,” Mary said. She did not know who Julian was. She’d barely thought about insurance. “That’s good.”

She had only met the Captain once before, at his and Lady Button’s wedding. He hadn’t smiled once in the entire day.

“For goodness’ sake,” Lady Button snapped. “I’m sure Mary doesn’t want to think about that right now.”

It would have been good, actually, to know what was going on, but Mary kept her mouth shut. She smiled at the toddler on the floor. “You must be Alison.”

Alison glanced at her briefly, and nodded. Then she tried to put the toy train in her mouth. The Captain steered her hand away.

“How old is she?” Mary asked. Alison answered for herself, putting up two fingers. The Captain sighed, and lifted another.

“Her birthday was only last month. She keeps forgetting she’s three.” He took the toy train away. “Alison? Do you remember your cousin Catherine?”

Alison squinted at the carrycot. Kitty had nodded off.

“She’s tiny,” Alison said, half-crawling over for a better look.

“Astute observation there.” The Captain sat down and, after a moment of hesitation, Mary did too. Alison was kneeling over Kitty, watching from a respectful distance.

“Mary. There you go,” Lady Button said, pushing a cup of tea in her direction.

“Thank you very much.” It was extremely sweet Earl Grey.

Nobody really said much as the tea was drunk. The Captain attempted to talk about the funeral arrangements, but Lady Button ordered him to be quiet.

They weren’t a thing like the Boultons. Of course, the Boultons had been much younger (Mary didn’t know these two’s ages, but they seemed implausibly old to have a three-year-old daughter), so maybe that accounted for it. ‘It’ being the affection, the quiet happiness in each other’s company, the things they laughed about together. Maybe it wouldn’t have stayed that way. But it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be any sort of way now.

She sniffed sharply. She wouldn’t cry. The salt from tears made her face sorer than it already was, and anyway she was an ugly crier.

Her eyes blurred from the effort but Lady Button came into brief focus and Mary ducked her head, embarrassed. These posh people had such a knack for keeping it together.

“Why don’t you show Mary her room?” Lady Button addressed the Captain. He got straight up.

“Certainly. Mary?”

“Yes, thank you.” She pulled herself up, having a strange lightheaded feeling. “And thank you as well for putting me up, I won’t…” She gulped. “I won’t trouble yous for too long, it’s just to settle Kitty in…”

Lady Button had a kind, curious sort of look on her face. “Let’s not worry about that for now.”

The Captain was giving Lady Button an odd look; this was clearly out of character for her. He went to pick up Mary’s suitcase.

“Oh, Captain, don’t worry, I’ll -”

“Don’t be silly,” he said briskly. Mary heard a distinct crack as he lifted it up. “Come along. East wing.”

Mary had never stayed in a place that had ‘wings’.

They had sent a lieutenant down from London to cover for him. The Captain dreaded to think of the state his recruits would be in by now. Even if this new fellow wasn’t over-lenient (and they were all over-lenient these days, the behaviour today’s soldiers got away with would have seen them thrashed back in his day), they were a scraggly bunch. It had taken the better part of eight weeks just to get them drilling properly. They needed consistency, discipline and a firm hand, and the Captain had one of the firmest. It didn’t really do to be called away for what Colonel Byers had termed (with a slight curl of the lip) as a ‘family emergency’. But one tended to do what one was told by Fanny, despite her utter lack of proper rank.

One of the cadets was leaning against the garrison wall smoking a cigarette.

“Patel?”

Patel’s eyes widened. “S-sir!” He stubbed out cigarette on the wall behind him, evidently catching his finger in the process and wincing. The Captain gave him a pointed look, and he managed a very sloppy salute. It was worse than he’d feared.

“Are you - is everything all right, Sir, we weren’t expecting you -“

The Captain cut him off. “Where’s your lieutenant?”

“In his office, I think. Sir. Your office.”

“Right. Get inside.”

Patel hurried inside. The Captain followed more slowly and heard Patel whispering frantically to the other cadets, in a warning tone. Oh, he’d missed being here.

The cadets in the mess gave salutes as he walked through, about two of which were passable. He would have to drill them straight away, just as soon as he’d spoken to this lieutenant to ascertain what the hell he’d been playing at.

“Right,” he said, glaring at the cadets. “Where’s -“

“Captain. Lovely to see you back.”

The Captain almost jumped - the fellow had appeared behind him without a sound - but maintained composure.

“That’s a bizarre thing to say, seeing as I’ve never met you in my life.”

He smiled as if the Captain had made a joke. There was lieutenant’s insignia on his sleeve. He wasn’t even standing at attention.

“Frankie Roberts. I assume you’d be Captain Fawcett?”

There was a Caribbean-sounding lilt to his accent. Roberts extended his hand just as the Captain raised his to salute. They shared a look, the Captain disdainful, Roberts amused. The Captain bristled.

“That would be  _ Francis _ Roberts, I take it?”

Francis shrugged. “If you like.”

It ought to have been  _ if you like, Sir _ but the Captain already felt mocked, so didn’t mention it. “Roberts will do, anyway. I’d like a word.”

“Certainly. Back shortly, you lot.” Francis flashed a smile at the cadets. A few of them (the ones that hadn’t been watching agape) smiled back, the first time the Captain had seen most of them do so.

“I hope you’re not trying to charm the men,” the Captain said when they reached his office. Francis closed the door, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“What do you mean, charm them? There’s women too, you know.”

“ _ Yes _ , I know. I just mean you oughtn’t to walk around the place grinning and trying to -  _ make friends _ , or something. It’s debasing yourself. They should already respect you as their superior officer.”

“Debasing myself? I don’t think so, I’m just being nice to them.”

“You’re not here to be bloody nice.”

“No, but it can’t hurt.”

His smile was irritating the Captain, though it wasn’t some insolent smirk. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle as though he genuinely found this all very enjoyable. He was difficult to age, too. The Captain suspected they might be close in age, but that Francis had done better out of it. Apart from those laughter lines, a smattering of grey in his short hair, he looked young.

“Well,” he said. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ll have them back on form soon enough. What are you doing next?” He started to pile together the errant papers that Francis had left on the desk.

“Helping you.”

The Captain stopped. Francis smiled boldly.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. The Colonel seemed to think you might need another hand around here. Judging by how much you were complaining.”

The Captain could only manage a scornful splutter in response. He dropped the papers on the desk, his jaw set.

“I can assure you I don’t need your help.”

“That’s as may be, but you’ll be getting it anyway.”

“No. That’s ludicrous. I’m sure Byers didn’t approve this, the last thing I need is some upstart officer challenging my authority -“

“Are you alright?” Francis interrupted.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know you were on personal leave,” Francis said mildly. “I was just wondering if you’ve recently experienced some considerable tragedy that’s put you out of sorts, or if you’re always like this.”

The Captain considered this. “Get out.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll give you your office back.”

“No, get out entirely. Tell the Colonel, in no uncertain terms -“

“I’ve already told you, I intend to stay here.”

“You will do as I -“

They both stopped as there was a reverberating thud and then a ceramic smashing sound from the mess, followed by a chorus of ‘wahey’s.

“That’s most likely Jenkins,” Francis said. A coldness was starting to creep into his tone. “She and some of the others have been trying to knock mugs off the counter with elastic bands.” He caught the Captain’s eye. “I suppose it’s target practice.”

“Good lord.”

“Yes.” He was finally unsmiling. “Perhaps they’re overdue a drilling. It does instil discipline.”

The Captain exhaled. “Quite.”

He strode out without waiting for Francis to follow. As he shouted the cadets into position, though, he did find himself looking back for him.

“What is it you do, Captain?”

When he didn’t answer, Mary glanced over at him from sterilising Kitty’s bottle. He was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space.

“Captain?”

He blinked. “Hm?”

“I was just asking what you do, exactly,” Mary said again. “I knows you’re in the army, but I’ve never really… known…” She trailed off, suspecting he didn’t much like answering questions.

“Oh. Well, I’m in Aldershot at the moment. Putting the new recruits through basic training.”

“Ah,” Mary said, nodding as if she understood more of that than she really had. “Young ones, are they?”

“Yes. Dreadfully behaved. And they’ve set me up with this new lieutenant who’s supposed to be helping me, but he’s… well.”

He avoided Mary’s eyes, clearly thinking he had said too much. Mary didn’t know why; he’d hardly told her anything.

“Yous two don’t see eye to eye?”

“No,” he said. Then, after some consideration, he added, “Certainly not.”

Silence settled again. Kitty was sitting opposite the Captain in her high chair. Behind Mary, the large kitchen door moved, scraping ineffectually against the floor; the Captain got up to open it.

“Alison. Hello.”

Without speaking, Alison brandished a video tape at him. Mary sneaked a look. It was  _ Chicken Run _ .

“Really?” the Captain said, looking down severely. “Again?”

“It’s my favourite,” Alison said. “And I want you to do the voice for the grumpy old chicken.”

The Captain cleared his throat self-consciously, glancing at Mary. “Well, all right, I don’t have much else to do,” he said, lowering his voice. “But will you eat your carrots tonight if I watch it with you?”

Alison shrugged. “Maybe. Kitty wants to watch too.” She fixed her eyes on Mary.

“Mary?” the Captain said. “Is it alright if we -”

“‘Course,” Mary said, lifting Kitty out of the chair. She didn’t quite like anyone else holding her yet. “Come on then, my lovely.”

Kitty smiled as Mary settled her on her hip. She was starting to get a tooth. Alison tugged the Captain’s sleeve.

“Can you carry me too?”

“No.”

During  _ Chicken Run _ , Mary was summoned to help Fanny put away some laundry. Fanny was the sort of lady who didn’t look at all right doing domestic tasks, but to her credit she seemed quite used to it. Mary supposed she’d  _ had _ to get used to it.

Fanny had a large walk-in wardrobe that jutted out into the room, and a precise system for hanging clothes, which she was now teaching Mary. Some of the clothes were immensely expensive. Mary liked how they felt beneath her fingers. In the wardrobe, hidden behind the newly-hung clothes, were a few things in bright colours, blue and green and flashes of red. It was difficult to picture Fanny ever wearing them. Mary had been here for over a month now, but had only seen Fanny wearing variations on beige or grey in this time.

“Very good,” Fanny said, surveying the clothes Mary had hung.

“Thank you, Lady Button.”

Fanny nodded briskly, picking up a cream silk blouse and hanging it with the others. For a moment she paused.

“Mary, I’ve been thinking,” she said, without turning around. “You’ve done very well in your time here, it’s been very helpful what with Kitty, and…” She looked sideways at Mary, her hands clasped. If Mary didn’t know better, she might think she looked nervous.

“Thank you, Lady Button,” she said again.

“Yes. Well, I wonder if you’d like… if you’d be amenable to taking on a full-time position here.”

Mary swallowed. It had been a long time since she’d had to job-search, and she hadn’t been looking forward to doing it again.

“Does - does your husband want me to stay as well, Lady Button?” It felt bad form to say yes right away.

“What? It doesn’t matter what  _ he _ thinks,” Fanny said, sounding brusque again. “You’d be working for me.”

“Of course. Beg pardon.” She had noticed the single bed. “I would like that, Lady Button. If you’re sure.”

“Quite sure.” She looked close to smiling. “Of course, we’ll get a proper arrangement in place. You’ll be paid a wage in addition to room and board, though it can’t be much, I’m afraid. Things are a little…”

She didn’t finish explaining how things were, but Mary caught the meaning.

“And I’m sure Alison will be pleased. Rather taken with you,” Fanny continued, still not quite looking at Mary.

Mary smiled, catching Fanny’s eye. “Bless her.”


	4. Arrivals Now

Selecting a lodger was proving to be as exactly as difficult as Alison had anticipated. Although they’d succeeded in getting a few round for viewings, Fanny had come up with reasons to reject nearly all of them.

They were sitting around the kitchen table - Alison, Kitty, Fanny, the Captain and Julian - as they entered their third hour of negotiations.

“What about that couple who came on Thursday?” Alison said. “They seemed alright. Quiet.”

“No,” Fanny said instantly. “They’re too young. What if they have a baby? Imagine the mess.” She gave Alison a pointed look.

“ _ Mum _ -”

“Not that it matters,” Julian cut in, “but that’s technically discrimination.”

“Well, anyway,” Fanny said. “I didn’t like the look of the woman. Seemed untrustworthy.”

“Which one?” the Captain said drily.

“How about that lady from Tuesday?” asked Kitty. “She was so nice.”

“ _ Her _ ?” Fanny scoffed. “She had a cat!”

“Exactly!”

“Okay,” Julian said, setting down his coffee cup. He had insisted on making it himself and it smelled faintly solvent. “How about that bloke -”

“He had a guitar! I couldn’t stand that noise, and besides, the girls have exams to study for -”

“Thought you couldn’t  _ possibly _ see why a young lady should want to go to university,” Alison quoted. 

Fanny glared at her. “Alison -”

“Fanny!” the Captain said. It was evident that he, unlike Julian, wasn’t pleased to be spending yet another Saturday at Button Hall. “Either pick one, or admit you’re too intolerant and stubborn to do anything to help yourself. Stop wasting everyone’s time.”

Alison held her breath as everyone fell quiet. Even Julian looked a little nervous behind his otherwise gleeful ‘it’s kicking off’ expression. Mary could often talk sense into Fanny without either party losing their temper, but she’d made her excuses shortly after Julian arrived. She had got over her grudge with Alison, whatever that even was (and offered a gruff apology for ‘being out of sorts’), which Alison had accepted for Kitty’s sake), but Julian seemed to still be in her bad books. Though Alison supposed that could be for any number of reasons.

“Very well,” Fanny said, slowly. Alison breathed. “I suppose I could accept one of them.”

“Excellent,” the Captain said, equally slowly. “And which one would that be?”

Fanny folded her hands in her lap. “The one from Wednesday. The student.”

“ _ Him _ ?” Alison and Julian both said at once.

“Yes! What was the matter with him?”

“He’s a  _ berk _ ,” Julian said distastefully.

“Exactly,” Alison said. “He’s so pretentious.”

“He’s  _ intelligent _ ,” Fanny said hotly. “What was it he’s studying?”

“English Literature!” Kitty said, her expression rapturous. “He’s a  _ poet _ .”

At that, Julian openly groaned.

“Literary types are always pretentious,” the Captain said disdainfully. Julian, slumped on the table, glanced up at him.

“Didn’t Frankie do English lit?”

“Yes, that’s how I know.”

“What if he makes us read his poetry?” Alison wailed.

“That’s quite enough,” the Captain said. “Fanny’s chosen one, and I consider that a triumph.”

“ _ You  _ won’t have to live with him,” Alison muttered.

Julian peeked through his hands. “Should we have a referend-“

“No,” the Captain said firmly. “We shan’t argue.”

“But you normally love arguing.”

“Not today.” He was standing up, starting to gather his things.

“Hold on! You’re just going to ditch us?” Julian said.

“Yes. I’m sure you can sort things out yourselves.”

“No!” Julian whined. Alison was glad herself. The Captain evidently wasn’t in the mood, and she hadn’t liked the near miss with Fanny.

“Julian, I didn’t ask to be summoned here,” he snapped. “And unlike you, I have somebody waiting for me, so -“

Julian pushed back his chair. “That is a low sodding blow. You don’t have to lord it over me now just because you’re eng-“

“Stop it, you two!” Alison said quickly, before Julian could get the rest of the word out. “Don’t say stupid things.”

The Captain averted his eyes. Julian sunk back into his chair, still fuming. 

“Of course. You’re quite right.” He nodded in Alison and Kitty’s direction. “Goodbye, girls. And you, Fanny.”

He nearly bumped into Mary as he left. Alison hadn’t noticed her either, but she was hovering in the doorway, looking at Julian’s sullen, pinched expression and looking quietly pleased about it. Alison had to take a deep breath.

“Alrighty,” Julian said, without any levity. “Let’s give Mr Thorne a ring.”

“Mum, Mike’s coming over later to work on our history project, is that okay?”

Alison leant in the living-room doorway, eating a Babybel. Fanny looked up at her from her  _ Daily Telegraph _ , looking alarmed.

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“What?” Alison froze mid-bite. “Why not?”

“Thomas is coming tonight! At six.”

“Yeah, but… what’s that got to do with Mike? We’re not going to be in the way, his room is miles away.”

“I want it to be just the four of us. We don’t want to overwhelm him with too many people.”

“I think Kitty is going to do good job overwhelming him all by herself, Mike being here won’t make any diff -”

“Well, we want to make him feel welcome, don’t we?”

“And what about Mike is  _ unwelcoming _ ? You just don’t like him ‘cause he’s not a posh nob.”

“Language,” Fanny said, folding her newspaper and getting up.

“What language?” Alison demanded, but Fanny nudged past her and hurried off down the hallway. Alison fumed, taking another savage bite and accidentally eating some of the red wax. At least her father had the decency to stand and fight in an argument.

Mary passed with the Hoover hoisted over one shoulder.

“Oh, there you are,” she said, glancing behind her at Alison. “Would you help Kitty put the bedding on? She’s having a breakdown about the mattress cover.”

One Kitty breakdown, one neatly-made bed and one sad-face text to Mike later, Alison heard a car pull up on the gravel. She turned deliberately away from her bedroom window. She’d just come to accept that she might have been a little quick in judging Thomas as pretentious, but the fact he’d inadvertently got rid of Mike gave her a fierce dislike before he’d even shown up.

A short while later, she heard low voices and footsteps outside her room. Fanny was evidently giving the tour. She heard Thomas say something about Rococo chairs and rolled her eyes.

“Alison!”

She recognised her mother’s brisk knock, and suppressed an actual groan.

“Yes?”

Fanny looked at her expectantly, Thomas and Kitty behind her.

“I thought you’d like to say hello.”

“Hello.” Alison raised a hand. “Nice to see you again.”

Thomas was quite openly staring at her, and Alison remembered the other reason she hadn’t liked him. She resolved to work Mike into every conversation with him.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I was on the phone with my boyfriend,” she lied. Fanny gave her a look. Was she no longer allowed to even mention him?

“Oh,” Thomas said abruptly. “Of course. I’ll let you get on.”

“Yeah.” Alison shot him a guarded look as they passed. Fanny narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t be impolite, Alison,” she hissed.

“Literally, what about that was impolite?”

She was ignored again.

“Hiya.”

Mike looked up from the library table where he had started laying out the contents of his history folder. “Hey.”

“Sorry about last night.” Alison took a seat opposite him.

“Nah, it’s all right.” He slid across a printout of his PowerPoint slides. “What d’you think?”

“Dunno about the Comic Sans.”

“If it is good enough for Sims 1, Alison, it is good enough for us,” he said primly.

Alison had to smile at that. She took out her own folder, but paused as she flipped through it. Mike had a crease between his eyebrows that went deeper than his usual ‘thinking’ expression.

“Are you sure you’re alright about it? I know my mum can be a bit…”

“Huh? Oh yeah, no, it’s fine,” Mike said, affecting nonchalance. “I mean. I was a  _ bit  _ worried, at first, but I know you’d never do anything like that, so-“

“Worried about what?”

“Oh. Just, like.” He rubbed his neck, half-smiling as if he wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “Seems like your mum might want to set you two up, doesn’t it?”

He said this last part rather quickly. Alison sunk in her chair.

“Oh, my God.”

“What?” Mike said. “I promise, it’s fine -“

“Oh my God, I genuinely didn’t realise.” She was not used to Mike being the one to point out the obvious. “Why is she  _ like  _ this?”

“It’s alright,” Mike said, tapping his fingers on the table in distraction. “It’s not your fault. I know you wouldn’t ever-“

“I’ve got to put a stop to this.” She was gripping the edge of the table. “I knew my stupid family were going to try and interfere, I’ve got to-“ She stood up, snatching her phone from the table.

“Aly, calm down,” Mike said. Oddly, he seemed to calm down as Alison got more riled. “Why don’t we get some work done first? Make up for last night.”

“Yeah.” She sat down again, finding herself out of breath. “Yeah, okay.” She still gripped her phone under the table.

“Just tell her you’ve found somebody who makes you happy, that you’re very much an adult and that she needs to understand the way things are now.”

“Dad, when you told Granny that, she had a  _ stroke _ .”

“For unrelated medical reasons, yes.”

She had been pacing around her room for the last half an hour debating who to speak to. Kitty would be no use, as she’d already imprinted onto Thomas. And Mary would probably back Fanny up out of contractual obligation. That left her with the Captain, who at least had experience in almost this exact situation.

She pressed her phone to her ear. “I don’t know. She’s probably not going to listen to me whatever I say.”

“Don’t be such a defeatist. She’ll come round eventually.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“She hasn’t come round to Frankie. And, not to be harsh, but I wouldn’t hold my breath, so -“

“You  _ know  _ that’s a different situation. It was all very upsetting for her.”

“I know, but-“ She cut herself off. In all the stress of Thomas arriving, she’d almost forgotten. “Do you think… do you think it has anything to do with Heather’s dad? Maybe?”

It was not the most seamless possible way she could have raised the topic. She could tell even over the phone that the Captain wasn’t having it.

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Don’t give me that. I’m not six.”

“You’re still growing. You need your sleep.”

“So you’re always saying.” But she was too tired to argue much further. If she started it, he could go on for ages. “Well, anyway. Do you… do you like Mike? I mean, do you think he’s good enough?” She cringed a little at the conceit in the phrasing.

“Yes. He seems a good sort.”

“Mm. Are you just saying that because he shot a pheasant?”

“Well, I don’t know much else about him, do I?”

He paused expectantly. Alison ran a hand through her hair.

“Oh, no. We’re not doing this. We’re not the sort of family who  _ talks _ about their relationships.”

“I’m just taking an interest.”

“I’ll tell you stuff if you really want, but I’m expecting the same back. Don’t you want to tell me about you and Frankie? How’re things? How are you liking being engaged? Is he -“

“Alison.”

She grinned into the phone. “Don’t forget, I won’t be at home tomorrow night, I’m going to be at Scouts.”

“Yes, of course. How was the archery last week?”

“Oh, it was fun. No one got hurt this time. I think Pat’s massive scar scares the kids.”

“D’you want a lift back?” Mike asked.

“No, it’s okay. My dad’s gonna pick me up, I’m at his for the weekend.”

“Alright.” He checked that the boys were out of sight, and gave Alison a quick kiss.

(Though girls had been allowed to join Scouts for a number of years now, Alison was the only one she’d ever seen there. Most girls joined the local Brownies, but the Captain thought their uniform regulations weren’t stringent enough.)

“Love you,” Mike said, squeezing her shoulder.

“Yeah. Love you too.”

Alison went back to the meeting hall, which wasn’t really a hall but the church créche (the WI had claimed the big hall). Pat was stacking plastic chairs in the corner.

“Oh, hello, Alison. Aren’t you heading home?”

“Not yet. Dad’s late. Apparently the M25 is a ‘ruddy nightmare’.” They’d been making posters for the Harvest Festival and ‘tidy-up time’ hadn’t been a complete success. “I’ll give you a hand.”

“You’re an angel. How’s your dad? Is he bringing his fella with him?”

The way Pat could refer to it so casually ( _ fella _ ) always stunned Alison for a moment.. “I don’t know. Probably.”

“Ah, lovely. Have a good birthday?”

“Yeah. Thanks for the card. It was…” She smiled, raising her eyes to the ceiling. “My family were being my family. But everyone behaved themselves, relatively speaking.”

“Even Julian?”

Julian occasionally used the adjoining meeting room for surgeries. He and Pat didn’t get on.

“Yeah. Well, he kept all his clothes on, and that’s what matters.” She scooped a handful of felt-tips from the floor and threw them into a biscuit tin. “Dad’s as usual. He made Mike shoot a bird.”

“You what? I thought hunting was illegal!”

“He says it’s allowed in the country. But I think that’s a lie.” The floor was speckly with glitter, trod in over years of arts and crafts. “Still treats me like a kid.”

“Ah. You’ll always be his little girl, that’s all. He’ll come round eventually, I’m sure.”

“D’you think so?” She felt resigned. Pat and Daley had, as far as she knew, an exceptionally healthy relationship. It was almost absurd that a fourteen-year-old boy would get along that well with his father. “It’s just…”

She had more to say, things she felt a sudden urge to express, but bit down. She barely even talked about these things with Mike, but Pat always seemed to know.

“Is something up?” he said gently, in that way that laid no pressure on her to answer but made her chest surge unbearably.

“My mum,” she said, her throat constricting and forcing the words out even though she wasn’t sure she should be saying them. “I’m worried that she’s -“

At this, either the best or worst possible moment, her phone buzzed.

“Is that your dad?”

“Yeah. Um. He’s here, I’d better -“

“‘Course. See you next week?”

There was something meaningful in the way he said this. Alison nodded.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”


	5. Julian and Humphrey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so long coming! Lots of things were happening in my life.

“What is it, Julian?”

“It’s Margot, darling.”

“Oh,” the Captain said, discomfited. Fanny was giving him a nasty look for having left the table. “How are you?”

“Oh,  _ I’m _ fine. It’s about Julian.”

“Julian?” His grip on the phone unconsciously tightened. “What’s the matter?” It wouldn’t be unlike Julian to have died in some sudden, grisly way. Margot sounded utterly nonchalant, but then that wouldn’t be unlike her, either. “Something the matter?”

“He’s fine, really. Fractured his collarbone.”

Fanny was continuing to glare. The Captain mouthed ‘Julian’ and pointed at his own collarbone, which did very little to convey anything.

“Well, that’s… that’s rather unfortunate,” he said. “How did he do it?”

Margot proceeded to explain. It took her several minutes to do this, during which time the Captain had to sit down. Her voice evidently carried, because Mary was trying to smother a giggle next to him.

“So that’s roughly what happened,” Margot went on. “He’s been holed up at St. Margaret’s since last night. Sent Genevieve round this morning with some clothes, the bloody paramedics wouldn’t let me put his trousers back on -“

Mary spluttered, spilling the peas she’d been trying to feed to Kitty.

“- but I’ve not been round myself. Absolutely slammed with work.”

Margot was an agony aunt for the  _ Mail _ ’s Sunday supplement. The Captain cleared his throat.

“Of course I’ll come and see him right away. Is he in good spirits?”

“I don’t know, my darling. But do feel free to spend the night.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

When he put the phone down, Fanny had a pursed look. “And what was that?”

“Julian. He’s, um. Injured himself. Fractured his collarbone.”

Fanny tutted. “How did he do that? Drunk, I expect.”

“I - yes. Yes, he must have been. He fell down the stairs.”

“The poor thing,” said Mary, who was not succeeding in keeping a straight face. She at least knew better than to say anything to Fanny.

“Yes. I’ll go down to visit him tonight. Margot’s said I can stay the night.”

“Jolly good.” Fanny couldn’t have cared less if he’d disappeared for a week, but she objected to leaving the dinner table. She smirked, sharing a look with Mary.

“What? What’s funny?” the Captain said, looking between them suspiciously.

“Did Margot really ask you to stay?” Fanny said. “That’s rather bold of her.”

“I don’t think so. She’s just being hospitable.”

“Margot?” Fanny scoffed. “I’m sure she has an ulterior motive. A man in uniform, and her husband away…”

“What about - oh, for goodness’ sake,” the Captain said. Mary and Fanny had now dissolved into laughter. “Don’t you two be so childish. She’s devoted to Julian.” He had just spent most of a phone call learning exactly  _ how _ devoted.

“Can I come with you?” said Alison, who had until now been absorbed in building a mashed potato house.

“No,” the Captain said. “You’ve got school tomorrow.”

“She’s only in Reception, Captain,” Mary started, “I don’t think it would matter too much if -“

The Captain silenced her with a look.

After a disquieting night at Margot’s house (Fanny and Mary’s silliness had put unpleasant thoughts into his head), he went out the next morning to see Julian. He was propped up in bed, his eyes glazed and peaceful.

“Captain. Hi. Y’alright?” He tried and failed to sit up, falling back against the pillows with a blissful sigh.

“Hello, Julian. How are you holding up?”

“Great.  _ So  _ good. I am on lots of morphine. Right into my veins.”

He indicated the IV with a shaking hand. The Captain smiled tightly.

“That’s very good.”

Julian nodded, then raised his eyebrows, startled.

“Sorry. Rude of me. D’you want some?” He attempted to remove it, and the Captain steered him away.

“No, Julian.”

“Suit yourself.”

The Captain passed him an envelope. “From Fanny. She sends her…” He couldn’t bring himself to lie. Julian ripped apart the envelope to find a floral Get Well card.

“To Julian, Regards Fanny.” He turned it upside down. “That’s all she wrote.”

“Mm. Concise.” The Captain took it back and propped it on the bedside table. “Mary’s been worrying about you. She wanted me to bring you some kind of tea that she says cured her aunt’s arthritis.”

“Oh, God.”

“It’s all right. I fed it to the bushes in the car park.”

“Smashing.” Julian rubbed his eyes. “Robin’s been threatening to bring some kind of poultice as well. Tell him not to.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank yoooou.” He grinned lopsidedly. “You’re such a good broth -”

“Don’t.”

“Are you  _ sure _ you don’t want any morphine?”

“How come Kitty gets to sit in the trolley and I don’t?”

“Because she’s a lot smaller than you. Besides, there’s only one seat.”

Alison frowned, her small hand gripping Mary’s. Mary could see she wasn’t in a good mood. She was missing  _ The Tweenies _ because they’d needed to make a Waitrose run, and a boy in her class had tried to put Play-Doh in her ear.

“We’re nearly done, poppet,” Mary said. “Just need to get your mum’s paper. Kitty, don’t touch that.”

She had to remember to check the newspaper first. She was under very strict instructions from the Captain (as if she needed to be told). Though, she didn’t think there would be much interest in Julian. He was only a backbencher.

“Look! It’s Uncle Julian.”

So much for that.

“Alison, hold on -“

Alison was on tiptoes trying to get a newspaper from the stand. Mary took it before she could.

“I wanna read!”

_ Fawcett Comes Undone _ . That was what this one said. Mary scanned the other papers, feverish.  _ Tory’s Sex Shame. _ That was another.

“Which one does Mum want?”

Alison had got hold of another one.  _ Sticky Mess _ , it said.

They got home around the same time as the Captain. Alison jumped out of the car to meet him. Mary hurried after her, holding Kitty on her hip.

“Hold  _ on _ , Alison. Captain -”

“I know. Alison, let go, please.” She was clinging to his leg. “I wouldn’t worry. Fanny won’t have seen the news, she thinks it’s vulgar to watch television during the day.”

“Yes.” He would insist on telling her things she already knew about Fanny. “It’s only - when we were in the shop -“ She felt herself turning red, though it wasn’t as if  _ she  _ had anything to be embarrassed about. Not like some people. “It’s all over the papers. Alison, um…”

“I see,” the Captain said before she could finish. Mary hoped they could go inside soon. Kitty was getting very heavy. “Alison, did you see Julian in the newspapers?”

He sounded like he was interrogating a suspect. Alison, unfazed, continued to chew on the sleeve of her school jumper.

“Yes. But Mary wouldn’t let me get one!”

“Yes. Quite. Well, Alison -“ The Captain made to crouch down to her level, but then evidently thought better of it. Maybe he would benefit from that tea. “It’s very important that you don’t tell your mother that you saw him.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. Now -“

Mary bit her tongue. He really ought to have known that line never worked.

“Will he be on the telly as well?” Alison said.

“Yes, I expect so. But I’ll sort that out.” He was eyeing the steps down to the cellar. “Take the girls inside, would you, Mary?”

Perhaps it was better not to ask questions. Then she might more convincingly plead ignorance later. Anyway, Kitty was drooling on her top.

“What are you doing in the cellar?” Alison shouted, as Mary tried to pull her inside.

“ _ Shush _ , Alison. I’m sure he’s just -“

She was saved from having to think of something by a scream erupting from upstairs. By the time Mary got into the hall, Kitty clinging to her hand, Fanny was already at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a mauve bathrobe and shaking with fury.

“What has happened to my hot water?”

Fanny could be quite a scary woman anyway, but in her rare bedraggled moments, she was terrifying.

“Power cut,” the Captain said, coming in behind Mary. She noticed him stuff the cellar keys in his back pocket. “Nothing we can do until it’s fixed.”

“Oh, of course there isn’t,” Fanny said, peeling a strand of hair from her forehead. “When was the last time you fixed anything in this house? Sometimes I wonder what on earth you’re  _ for _ .”

“I’m going to get some candles,” the Captain said. It was still light. Mary coughed.

“Shall I run a bath, Lady Button?”

It was now about fifteen minutes after the ten o’clock news would have finished. Alison’s dinner had consisted of several Cheestrings and it had proven difficult to get her into bed. Now, in the living room, the Captain was working on an Airfix tank, Mary was knitting a cardigan for Kitty, and Fanny was reading a Jackie Collins novel, frowning with the effort of reading by the light of an oily tea light. Going without her newspaper had not improved her mood. Mary wasn’t a great fan, either. She worried about her knitting. She’d once given a jumper a third sleeve, and that was with the lights on.

“I think I’ll check the cellar’s locked,” the Captain said abruptly.

“Why would you need to check? Nobody’s been down there in days,” Fanny said.

“You can never be too careful,” he said sternly, though he was suppressing a smile. The mission had been accomplished.

Fanny rolled her eyes but let him go, returning to her book. Mary set her knitting in her lap. She could pick it back up in a minute. After some minutes, during which she felt tense enough to snap, the lights came on.

“Oh!” Fanny said, somehow managing to still look displeased. “Finally.”

Mary still had a nasty feeling in her stomach. “Yes.”

The phone trilled from where it sat on the dresser.

“Who on earth is calling at this time?” Fanny snatched up the receiver. “Hello? Oh, Margot. Good evening.”

At this moment, the Captain returned, looking almost jaunty, but his expression shifted when he saw Fanny on the phone.

“Yes, I’m sorry, we’ve had a power cut all evening.” She glanced at the Captain, who looked like he wanted to escape. “Did he get my card? Oh, good. Yes, you’re quite welcome.”

The Captain stepped forward. “Fanny -”

“Can you not bloody see I am on the phone?” she hissed, covering the receiver. “Sorry, Margot? Well, I’m just glad it wasn’t anything worse. Those stone steps can be a deathtrap when it’s wet. I’m sorry?”

Silence seemed to blanket the room. All that could be heard was Margot’s muffled voice in the receiver. She was laughing.

“Fanny,” the Captain said again, but weakly. Fanny didn’t acknowledge him. She was listening intently, her expression solidifying. Mary picked up her knitting back up, just for something to make a noise.

“I see. Yes. Well, thank you for letting me know, Margot.” Fanny put the phone down without saying goodbye.

“You know,” Mary said, stuffing her knitting into her pocket, “I’m actually right tired, so I might just pop up to bed now, so…”

She was out the door before she could think of an end for her sentence, hurrying off down the hallway even though a knitting needle was jabbing her in the side.

When Fanny’s voice erupted from the living room, Mary was already too far to hear exactly what she was saying, but she was fairly sure it began with ‘you complete and utter’.

* * *

“Kitty?”

“Oh! Alison!” Kitty smiled, her eyes as bright as those of the brownish-red cat purring on her lap. “You gave me a scare. How was your dad’s?”

“Kitty,” Alison said. Her rucksack was falling off her shoulder. “Why do you have that?”

“He’s not a ‘that’, he’s Humphrey!”

Humphrey had fixed Alison with an imperious look. “He’s only got three legs.”

“Yes!”

“And one eye.”

“That’s why he needs special care.” Kitty scratched behind Humphrey’s ears.

“Yes, but… Kitty, you know Mum won’t let you have a pet. Where is she, anyway?”

“Bridge with the Beg-Chetwyndes. And Mary’s gone to see a film, I think she said it was called  _ Midsummer _ . Sounds romantic.”

“Mm.” Alison had started to stroke Humphrey without really noticing. “But what if he’s owned by someone? Did he have a collar on?”

“No, but that’s why I took him to the emergency vet yesterday. So they can see if he’s got a chip.”

Alison stared. “You’ve what?”

“And he doesn’t, so he must be a stray or something. He’s very healthy too. Except for a bit of worms, but they gave me medication for that.”

“I - but, Kitty -” Kitty was fifteen now; she wouldn’t always, Alison supposed, remain her naive baby cousin. “You know Mum won’t allow it.”

“Well, I’ll just hide him from her! I’ve got it all figured out -“

Or perhaps she would remain at least a little bit of a baby.

“- when I’m at school he can be in the cellar, and at night he’ll just stay in bed with me -“

“Kitty!” It wasn’t fair. Alison wouldn’t have minded having a cat herself, but Fanny was in charge of the household and there was no changing that. “He won’t just stay in one place, though, will he? He’s a cat, he’s got to wander around.”

And indeed he was. In fact, while they’d been talking, he’d wound himself into one of the curtains by the French doors. Kitty squeaked, jumping up to free him.

“And then there’s  _ this _ ,” Alison said, holding out her palm to show the hairs clinging to it. “Mum will definitely notice that.”

Kitty’s lip trembled. Alison had to take a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

“Maybe,” she said, more gently, “maybe we should take him to a cat rescue, and they can find a home for him -“

“But they won’t, will they?” Kitty cried. “He’s got three legs. And one eye. He’ll probably just stay in some cell for the rest of his days!”

“Okay, okay, don’t -  _ don’t  _ make yourself cry, Kitty.” Alison exhaled. “Maybe we can figure something -“

“Oh yes, of course we can!” Kitty said, brightening instantly. “I’m  _ so  _ glad you agree.”

And Humphrey hopped back onto the sofa, stretching out as though he already owned the place.


End file.
